


grow fonder

by Skyzuki



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Epilogue, F/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Non-Explicit, On the Run, Reunions, Unhealthy Relationships, Weisshaupt Fortress (Dragon Age), alistair dies in the fade sry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyzuki/pseuds/Skyzuki
Summary: Hawke leaves to help the Inquisition. She misses her partner the whole time.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Kudos: 14





	grow fonder

**Author's Note:**

> hi gang!  
> i only wrote this bc i've been on my old da2 brainrot and i have suuuuuch bad block rn i just needed to write something. no beta, we die like men

After two years, their relationship is not nearly as amorous as it once was.

They sleep next to each other, huddled under matted furs and stolen blankets, sharing each other’s warmth. She kisses him, sometimes, on the forehead or the cheek.

She knows that he still resents her decision to spare his life.

When they aren’t with the other apostates, they are alone together. They rarely speak, or converse the way that they used to. There are no flirtatious comments, no sarcastic retorts, no instances of laughter. He is a shell of the man he once was, the man she fell in love with. She assumes he must view her the same way, a ghost of _the Champion of Kirkwall._

There are moments, though, when she can find him again. Whenever he leans down to scratch a stray cat behind the ear, whenever she catches him deep in though and his eyebrow furrows in the way she always used to tease him for, when he snores throughout the night.

They wake up with the sun, they travel, they fight off anyone who recognizes them, they eat by the fire, and the cycle begins again. It is a hard life, however, when she considers the alternative, she is grateful to still be by his side.

That is why, when Varric’s letter finally reaches her, she has second thoughts. Doubt blossoms in her chest at the prospect of leaving him alone with his self-sacrificial tendencies.

She sighs, holding the worn parchment in both hands before folding it up.

~

“I have to leave, Anders, and you cannot come with me.” The assertion seems obvious enough. It would be insane to even suggest that they make the journey together.

Regardless, Anders sighs. “I’ll leave you alone once we reach the Southron Hills.”

She looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head. “No. You’ll stay here, and you won’t follow me. It’s too dangerous.”

“There are demons falling from the sky and you expect to take a week’s journey by yourself?”

Even though she hates to admit it, he’s right. It is extremely dangerous for her to travel half of Fereldan by herself. Especially under the current circumstances.

“I have to, Anders.”

“Why? What debt do you owe to the Inquisition that you’re so willing to die for them?”

“I owe no debt to them!” She bites, letting her arms drop to her sides. “I’m going because it’s Corypheus. And it’s the right thing to do.”

“When have you ever done something just because it’s _righ_ t?”

~

He cuts her hair for her, the day she leaves. A mundane task, one that holds no bearing on the actual matter at hand; she simply wants to look like herself once again. He uses a rusted dagger; she sits on the trunk of an uprooted tree, watching the wind blow away her curls once they hit the ground.

When he’s done, her hair sits just above her shoulders. She catches her reflection in the nearby stream and sees the young woman from Lothering, an older sister and eldest daughter, apart of a family that she no longer has.

“Thank you.” She says, quietly, kissing Anders on his stubbled cheek.

His eyes are sad, and the guilt bubbles up once again.

~

After two years of close-quarters and shared bedrolls, she wakes alone. The mattress is stiff, stuffed with old straw and covered with scratchy linen; despite this, it is the nicest bed she’s slept in since she left Kirkwall. The innkeeper, a pleasant old dwarven man, even offered her a free meal when she first arrived. The gesture was a rare kindness, even though she refused it, she was far too anxious to eat.

The inn sits on the outskirts of Redcliffe, far away enough from the village to avoid being recognized. One more day’s hard ride, and she will finally reach Skyhold.

She fishes for Varric’s letter in her pocket, unfolds the parchment and smiles at the familiar scrawl. It doesn’t seem real, that they’ll soon be reunited. It doesn’t seem real that Corypheus is back. It doesn’t seem real that she is important enough to even be invited to help the Inquisition.

She mounts her horse and sets off, the cold air whipping at her cheeks.

~

Skyhold’s people hold the Inquisitor to such high esteem, Hawke is a bit taken aback at just how _young_ she is.

Barely twenty-one and already the figurehead of an army. When Hawke was twenty-one, she was befriending stray dogs and throwing fireballs at Carver.

She is Dalish, though nothing like Merrill; where Merrill was sweet, naïve, the Inquisitor is blunt, hardheaded.

They speak of Corypheus, and Hawke tries her best to give all the helpful information she can remember. Lavellan asks about Anders, of course she does, but she doesn’t speak his name with the same vitriol as the others do.

“My father was an apostate.” She says to Hawke. Eyes trained on something in the distance. “He was taken by the Circle before I was born. My mother fled to the Dalish for sanctuary, after that.”

“I’m…sorry.” Hawke replies, because she has never been good at comforting anyone.

“I read _the Tale of the Champion.”_ She supplies.

That makes Hawke chuckle. “Well, I can assure you that the real stories are much less grand.” _And much sadder,_ she does not say.

“I respect him.” A pause. “Anders, I mean. I respect you, as well, Champion.”

Hawke feels her cheeks warm, despite the cold air. She tries not to let her surprise show, but she does place a gentle hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder.

~

The tavern at Skyhold cannot compare to the Hanged Man, but her alcohol is on the house so she does not complain. She sits across from Varric—her best friend, her most trusted confidant, the person who has gotten her out of trouble more times than she can count.

She wants every scrap of information he can give to her about the state of Kirkwall. She is overjoyed to hear that Aveline and Donnic are well. Her mansion is inhabited by Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana, just as she hoped it would be.

She downs her third tankard of ale, and the laughter comes easier.

~

Despite the state of the fortress, the accommodations are more extravagant than she deserves. In all the chaos, someone found the time to dress her bed in burgundy silk. The Inquisition’s banners hang over holes in the stone walls, and the floorboard creak suspiciously, but she could hardly complain.

She is granted a fine wooden desk, with fresh ink and parchment; the sight makes her heart ache for a moment, because she has no one to write letters to. 

There are clothes folded atop the wardrobe; a night dress, simple trousers, a linen undershirt. She almost wonders how they knew what size she wears, but then remembers that Varric probably had something to do with it.

Tucked in the corner of the room is a wooden basin and she almost groans in relief when she sees it.

She uses magic to heat the water until thin tendrils of steam rise above the surface, then she sinks down to her chin. She tries to remember the last time she’s had a _real_ bath since leaving Kirkwall, and realizes that she can’t.

Once she drags herself out of the basin, she decides that she doesn’t have the energy to get re-dressed.

She sleeps naked, vulnerable, cold, and alone.

~

The week passes quickly, after the first night.

They ride to Crestwood to find Alistair, who returns to Skyhold with them.

They have a single day of rest before they travel to the Western Approach.

There is blood magic, because of course there is; the self-inflicted scars on her arms and legs seem to tug when she sees one Warden slit another’s throat.

She fights, because that is what she does.

Once they return to the fortress, more informed and harrowed by their new knowledge, a plan to set out to Adamant is immediately agreed upon.

They leave again in just two days.

~

The Inquisition leaves with an alliance, and without Alistair.

Hawke only knew him vaguely, she knew his wife even less; still, she tastes bile as she sees him run off with his sword drawn. She can’t imagine the Hero of Fereldan receiving the news that her closest companion killed himself in order for Hawke to continue living.

Even after she practically begged the Inquisitor to let her sacrifice herself, instead. 

She must travel to Weisshaupt, there is no time for her to go back and find Anders. The thought of rebuilding the Wardens makes her head spin because she has no real idea _how_ to help them.

She hugs Varric, one last time before she leaves.

“I’ll write to him for you.” He says, a little sadly, after they part.

And, because she can’t help it, she hugs him again, for good measure.

~

It takes over a month for Weisshaupt’s gates to open and for her to look over and see sunlight reflecting blond hair.

Before she has a moment to think, she drops her staff to the ground and bounds over to get a better look at the visitor; as soon as she sees his face, everything seems to melt away. He pushes by the guards as soon as he notices her, his eyes wide and watery and so, _so_ tired.

He runs to close the space between them, and they crash into each other with such force that she’s worried that her armor may have hurt him. Her arms wrapped around him so tight that she tells herself to loosen her grip to allow him to breathe.

 _“It’s alright, it’s alright.”_ She keeps repeating, into his shoulder, but it’s probably more of a comfort to herself than it is to him.

Some distant part of her mind screams that it is too dangerous for him to be here. However, she is a selfish woman and she has been denied this for too long.

She kisses him hard enough to bruise.

~

They make love, that night, for the first time in two years.

Only after she recounts her jaunt in the Fade, which he listens to with shock and disbelief at the fact she is still alive, with a comforting hand over hers.

They lay beside one another, after, just as they did so many times in Kirkwall. She strokes his hair, greying at the temples and so much longer than it was then.

Despite everything that’s happened since, he is still there. Justice is there, too, but she remembers that has always been the case. At the end of the day, she has always loved them both, hasn’t she?

She blows out the lantern, leaving them in the dark.

For the first time in two years, he holds her throughout the night, and she is grateful to be by his side. 


End file.
